


Domestic Arrangements

by PelagicNemo



Category: Vingt mille lieues sous les mers | Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas - Jules Verne
Genre: M/M, Part of Mare Liberum AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:55:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29169954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PelagicNemo/pseuds/PelagicNemo
Summary: Set in the Mare Liberum universe, this is a fic created for the @20kleaguesgiftexchange group on tumblr. It is created for @criesaboutliterature. It exists in my Mare Liberum AU. Pierre comes home to find that Nemo has been rather busy during his month-long absence in Paris. Love and hope and happiness and the requested fluff. At least I hope I got fluff right, I had to ask for a translation...!
Relationships: Pierre Aronnax/Capitaine Nemo | Pierre Aronnax/Captain Nemo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Domestic Arrangements

**Author's Note:**

> The requests I recieved for this were:  
> 1) A fic where Nemo’s just…Happy for a moment, he deserves it tbh :(  
> 2) Art of Nemo contemplating on the deck of the Nautilus at night  
> 3) A Nemo/Aronnax fic that’s brimming with fluff!
> 
> I quickly realised doing No. 3 would fulfil No. 1. I am not so good at drawing, so No. 2 has been painted in words instead.
> 
> This is part of my Mare Liberum AU. I do not think it is a spoiler to show it has a happy ending - the story lies in the long road to get there. This will be integrated into Mare Liberum in due time. There are a LOT of details omitted from it to avoid spoilers, they will be restored also in due time. Paix ! PN

Ranjit watched as Nemo paced the platform, looking always east. Nemo’s oldest friend and Chief Officer smiled to himself. Nemo was a little nervous, a little excited, and very impatient. He was trying to hide all of it, which meant it was blatantly obvious to anyone who looked at him. From his eyes, to his facial expression, and every line of his body, his thoughts and moods were right out there for everyone to see - as was usual.  
Ranjit turned to his younger brother Raj, the Second Officer. ‘And there, my brother, is why Robert and Paritosh suggested he stop joining the card games. He would lose all his shells in thirty minutes or less, he is so terrible about trying to hide anything that he is thinking or feeling!’  
Raj smiled, but raised a warning finger. ‘Don’t tease him, brother. He has worked hard this month, and has missed Pierre even more.’  
Ranjit nodded, more serious. ‘Yes, he has. And I never tease him about Pierre, ever. He deserves this, and so does Pierre, and I would never do anything that didn’t show my absolute encouragement to them both. Pierre has helped him to heal, and I could not wish for anything more.’

The man under discussion was completely oblivious to anything but the Eastern horizon. He had a glass, which he would put to his eye every now and again, but most of the time, he watched the horizon with his own far-sighted vision, waiting for the pinnace to appear. The pinnace that carried Simon, his First Officer, Robert and Jean-Michel, Third Officers, Thierry, seaman, and Mateo from the galley. And Professor Pierre Aronnax.  
A month. A whole, entire, complete month Pierre had been gone to Paris. He was to attend a symposium, and then after the presentations of three papers at that esteemed event, he was to give a short series of lectures at the museum. And visit his family. And purchase all the supplies needed to create an examination room/surgery on board. And get all the latest books and journals he could find to update his medical knowledge. And he had also hoped to accompany on as many medical rounds as he possibly could at the Hôtel-Dieu, the oldest hospital in the Western world, where he had once practised. A truly daunting schedule.  
Ranjit had already taken friends with him to Le Havre to collect all of the medical supplies Pierre had ordered and sent there, and also the personal possessions from his Paris apartment. These were the first things Pierre had done on arrival to the city.  
For all the years Nemo had been alone, slept alone, he was surprised by just how much he missed Pierre. His presence as they worked quietly side by side. Their long discussions over their notes, sometimes not ending until one of them fell asleep after the discussion continued several hours after they had gone to bed. His warmth at night. His kind grey eyes greeting Nemo in the morning. His voice, speaking and singing. His hands that could make such beautiful drawings, soothe away a nightmare, make Nemo feel absurdly safe.  
Nemo had been patient with this missing of Pierre, until he came up on the platform this morning and began watching for the pinnace. Patience was now nearly gone, he wanted Pierre home.  
Finally, Nemo spotted sails through the glass. Though the vessel was hull-down, he recognised the sails of the pinnace, especially the dark blue spinnaker with the large, gold ’N’ emblazoned on it. He signed to Ranjit and Raj in the wheelhouse, ‘Pinnace sail sighted!’  
He stayed on deck, looking through the glass every minute or so until the hull came into view and he could clearly distinguish six human figures.  
The tension Nemo had been feeling eased with a startling suddenness, the physical tension draining away from his neck, shoulders, and back, bringing instant relief. Everyone was on board, everyone was coming safely home. Pierre…  
Once Nemo could distinguish detail with the naked eye, and had swept the entire horizon to make sure there were no other ships, he returned the glass to the wheelhouse. Ranjit did not miss a single sign of his oldest friend’s happiness, there for anyone who knew him well. His dark eyes warm, with a hint of a sparkle, his motions quick and graceful, his face alight in that unique way which Pierre brought out in him.  
‘When the pinnace is secure, we’ll bring Pierre’s things into the salon and set them near the door to our quarters, but not inside. I want to preserve the surprise until I can give him a proper tour after we have had a chance to reacquaint ourselves,’ Nemo said.  
Ranjit nodded. ‘We will deal with the cargo, and you get Pierre,’ he said smiling, happy for Nemo, and happy their friend was coming home.  
Nemo and Ranjit returned to the platform in time to assist hauling the pinnace into its slot and securing it. During the evolution, Nemo kept glancing at Pierre, who was smiling joyfully. At last, Pierre gained the platform, his eyes only for Nemo now. Nemo met him immediately, and Pierre reached out to take Nemo’s hands into his own.  
‘Chéri,’ he said softly, ‘ I have missed you very much!’  
Nemo looked into those happy, loving grey eyes, and gently squeezed the hands that held his. ‘My Pierre, welcome home!’ The tone of his voice and the warmth in his dark, soft eyes expressed everything else he didn’t know how to say.  
They moved out of the way when their friends wouldn’t allow them to assist unloading the pinnace. Ranjit shook his head, and made gestures with his hands toward the open hatch. ‘Go, the both of you! You’ve been apart for an entire month. You should be paying attention to each other, not the cargo. Now, go!’  
Pierre laughed aloud as Nemo shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and a subtle blush blooming on his cheeks. Before he could respond to Ranjit, Pierre took his hand and the two went through the hatch and down the companionway.  
They made their way to the salon, where Nemo led them to one of the open panels, carefully keeping them out of the way of the friends unloading the pinnace and placing Pierre’s trunk and boxes on the other side of the compartment. Nemo sat on the larger sofa near the panel and Pierre sat down beside him. Pierre was a little confused, for they usually sat on a smaller sofa for two, but it was gone. In its place was actually the armchair from Pierre’s quarters. But with Nemo’s closeness, and those warm, dark eyes, Pierre immediately forgot to ask. Instead, he let go of Nemo’s hand and slipped an arm around him, gently drawing him closer.  
Nemo sighed in pure contentment and settled against Pierre’s side in that most familiar way. From this favoured position, Nemo looked round the salon and laughed quietly as he saw Ranjit and his other friends exit with almost-undue haste.  
‘They were quite serious about us having privacy to greet one another,’ he said, turning back to Pierre and slipping his arms about Pierre’s waist. They held each other close, Nemo’s face buried at the join of Pierre’s neck and shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent, so badly missed. Pierre’s cheek rested against Nemo’s black hair, which he loved.  
After some time, Nemo lifted his head and Pierre stroked his face and hair with his free hand, then kissed him, pleasantly long and warm and unhurried. They embraced again.  
‘I know one thing for certain, chéri,’ Pierre said quietly. ‘Home is not Paris, nor even the _Nautilus_ , but home is you. For no matter where I am, if you are not there, neither is home.’ Pierre pulled back and cupped Nemo’s face in his hands. ‘I would rather be in the coldest, poorest garret room with you than spend one more night in a fine suite at the best hotel without you.’  
‘Thankfully, you won’t have to do that for another year, Professor,’ Nemo said with a gentle smile. Pierre kissed the smile, then the two settled more comfortably, still holding one another.  
‘How did the conference go? Is all well for you at the Museum?’  
‘Very well, indeed,’ Pierre said. ‘I presented the papers as we had planned. The first was mine. Two days later, our joint one. The day after that, I presented yours. Welcome to academia, Captain Nemo,’ Pierre said with a grin. ‘All were well-received, and I took careful notes after each question session, noting the most pertinent questions, which we can address in further research. My superiors at the Museum were very pleased with each paper and the scope of our work, and I have been asked to continue as we are. And it was made quite clear, your research is equally-welcome.’  
Nemo sighed in relief. ‘This is good. I know how much the Museum and your work there matters to you.’  
‘Nemo, all is well for me at home, too. I told my sister and brother about us, showed them our wedding photograph. Your picture made quite an impression on my sister, and my sister-in-law. So much so that I had to gently remind them that they are already married, and so also are you!’ Pierre said with a warm laugh. ‘They could see how happy I am. Of course, they had questions, having read my original journal. They know my story since leaving the _Nautilus_ , of course, so I told them your basic story. I made it clear that from the Maelstrom onward, you were dedicated to peace, and healing for yourself and your friends. And that you and I take very good care of one another and we have a strong relationship of equality, mutual respect, and love. They both said that we are welcome in their homes at any time, and they very much want to meet you. And my trunk has two wedding gifts in it for us, one from my sister and her husband, one from my brother and his wife. I know what they are, of course. So you get to unwrap them,’ he added with a smile and a kiss to Nemo’s forehead.  
‘They accept us? Me?’ Nemo said, his eyes both wary and shy.  
‘That first night we had, at the South Pole, I admitted to you I have had previous lovers, monogamous with each, but the relationships tended to last only a year or two, maybe three. My family knew about me from a young age. There is a certain tolerance for this in Paris. My brother and sister know me, know my heart. They accept us, they accept you. They see how happy I am, and they also saw how dreadfully I missed you. And they do not have any problem that you’re Indian, this is another way that Paris is very tolerant. We are accepted in my family as married, and we are welcome in their homes should you wish to come with me some day. My nieces and nephews were introduced to you from our wedding photograph, and you are now officially Uncle Nemo.’  
Nemo closed his eyes and rested his head on Pierre’s shoulder. ‘Paris welcomed me as a student in a way no other place had. Ranjit and I loved our time there. It was good for us both. I do miss it sometimes…’ he said softly. ‘And to share that with you, a Parisian…’  
Nemo fell silent, and Pierre stroked his hair, remaining silent himself until he could feel Nemo once again relax against him. He decided to change the subject.  
‘Chéri, where is our favourite sofa? And how did the armchair get out here? Have you been rearranging house?’  
That broke Nemo out of his shy mood immediately. He sat up and smiled at Pierre, with what seemed a bit of nerves.  
‘I, ah, yes. A bit. Maybe more than a bit? I took on a project whilst you were away. I missed you so very much, I decided I needed to keep myself busy and do something I hoped you would find useful. And I hope you approve, since I took great liberties with neither your consent nor your advice.’  
At Pierre’s confused look, Nemo leaned forward and kissed him. ‘I will show you, my Pierre,’ he said simply, then he stood and held out a hand. Pierre stood and took it, twining his fingers through Nemo’s.  
Nemo led him to the canted door in the corner of the salon that gave into Nemo’s part of their adjoined quarters. He reached for the lever on the door, and let go of Pierre’s hand to take his elbow. He smiled a bit shyly. ‘Close your eyes, Pierre,’ he said gently.  
Pierre gave Nemo a grin, but obeyed, mystified and very curious. He heard Nemo open the door, and allowed himself to be led forward a few steps.  
‘Now you may see,’ Nemo said.  
Pierre opened his eyes, and what he saw made him gasp in surprise. When he’d left, this room had looked the way it always had - spare, no comfort, let alone any luxury. But that narrow, small iron bedstead was gone, as was the plain worktable and bench and chair.  
Pierre was now standing in a true bedroom. A handsome wooden bedstead made for two took up most of the small quarters with fat pillows, and a thick soft duvet. There were matching night tables on each side of the bed, and there was a wooden chair with a padded seat in the corner. Persian rugs softened the deck. The overhead lights were off, the room was lit by two small lamps with adjustable arms, one over each side of the bed, casting a warm soft light. The familiar instruments still gleamed from the bulkhead, and there was still the picture of Nemo’s family, the two paintings Nemo had made of Pierre after the Maelstrom, and their framed wedding photograph. Two seascape paintings had been added, and one of the Sorbonne chapel and courtyard - a shared history.  
‘Nemo, this is incredible! …. how…?’  
‘Robert led the crew that went to Le Havre to collect your medical supplies and household goods. I asked them to go to a furniture shop and get cabinetry suitable to hold your medical supplies, I gave them amounts and dimensions. He came back with everything and said he found the perfect furniture we should have. He then asked me how many times had I fallen out of your bed,’ Nemo added with a laugh. He and Pierre had been sleeping in Pierre’s bed for eight months, and whilst they could fit in it, it was always a bit precarious. ‘He said he found a very suitable bed and some other furniture, and should he go back and purchase it. I couldn’t make that decision without seeing for myself, not for something that important, so I went with him. Ashore. In Le Havre. He was absolutely right, and I bought the bed immediately, and a few other things,’ Nemo said.  
Pierre kept looking around this room, once so harsh, now so inviting and homely in every way. Nemo led him to the short passage between the room and the head, opening the clothing lockers to show the contents. ‘All of our clothing and spare towels are now in here, and there is still room for what you’ve brought back. The things we don’t use every day are in your old clothing lockers - outdoor gear, heavy boots, bed linens.’  
Nemo then led Pierre into the head. ‘Having two heads seemed impractical, so I’ve moved all of your things into this one. I added shelves to fit your toiletries and another bar for your towels.’  
Pierre looked and looked, everything was so well designed and thought out. The quarters felt like home immediately, though he had not been in them for long at all.  
‘Chéri, this is amazing, beautiful. I don’t know what to say…’  
‘Well, my Pierre, I have to admit, I did more. Would you like to see?’  
Pierre pulled Nemo into a close hug and kissed him. ‘You work too hard, my love.’  
‘This was not work, Pierre, but a joy.’  
Nemo took Pierre’s hand and led him back into the bedroom proper, then through the door that led to the adjoining room. If Pierre had thought the bedroom a transformation, this room was even more of one. Pierre’s old bed was gone, carefully disassembled and removed. The other furniture was gone as well. In place now was a handsome, larger polished worktable with a padded bench. A large desk and chair. The missing favoured sofa from the salon held pride of place with a blanket folded over the back, a tea table nearby, and two lamps to suit readers. A bookcase holding their journals and notes. And throughout, there was art in the form of painting and sculpture, some specimens, things from France, things from India. Another copy of their wedding portrait over the desk. A sitting and working area for two, reflecting both of them in a warm and very harmonious manner.  
Like the bedroom, Nemo had added lamps for warm light for the worktable, the desk, and the sitting area. The entire effect was inviting, beautiful, comfortable, pleasing to every sense. One moment earlier, Pierre hadn’t even known it existed. Now, he wondered how they had ever managed without it.  
Nemo gestured toward the desk. ‘There are drawers on each side. Since you’re left-handed, the left drawers hold your supplies, and the right ones hold mine.’  
He then led Pierre to the clothing lockers in the short passage to the head. The door to that, Pierre noted, was closed. Nemo opened the doors to the clothing lockers, showing their outdoor gear, and heavier boots, and bed linens. Pierre’s delighted approval could not have pleased Nemo more. But there was one last thing, and Nemo was unsure of this one…  
He turned to face Pierre, his face rather serious. ‘We did not need two complete heads, so I… rebuilt this with James’s help. It has a completely different purpose now. If there is anything in there that I got wrong, even the very smallest detail, I want you to let me know, for it is very important that any error be rectified immediately.’  
This time, Nemo didn’t lead. Instead, with a graceful gesture, he invited Pierre to open the door for himself and go in. So, rather mystified, he did.  
He found himself standing in a physician’s surgery, basically, a hospital in a room. Everything had been removed from this compartment except for the sink, which was now integrated into a steel counter. Mounted above it were his medicine and chemical chests and a cabinet that held everything necessary for compounding medicines. Another set of glass-fronted cabinets extended from the deck to the overhead, shelves holding all of his medical instruments, bandages, and the rest of the supplies he had sent from Paris. There was a bed, unusually high but surprisingly inviting.  
Nemo joined him then, and gestured at the bed. ‘If someone is not well enough to recover in their own bed, they can sleep here. If you remove the bedding and the mattress, you will see that it is an operating table. It can serve two purposes.’ He then gestured at a chest under the bed. ‘In there are smocks, clean sheets, and a plenitude of towels.’  
Nemo continued his tour. ‘A lamp on a moveable arm with a strong light above the bed for surgery. This cord,’ he said touching a braided-cloth covered cord with a switch on the end, 'can be used by a patient to summon you at night. If they depress the switch, it will ring a small bell in our bedroom.’ He then pointed at something Pierre had seen in the ship before, in the galley to be precise. ‘Paritosh donated one of his smaller electric pots. In here you can boil a sheet, or two smocks, or your instruments, whatever you need. There is also a hose here, hot water only, for hosing down the deck and cleaning.’  
Pierre looked at everything, the care that went into this compartment’s design. Here was a small hospital as up-to-date as anything in Paris, and beyond in many practical ways.  
Nemo gestured at the cabinets. ‘I am not a doctor, I only unpacked and put everything in places to make sure there was enough room. Everything fits, and there is more room as more advanced instruments are made. You will no doubt have to rearrange much of this.’  
Pierre shook his head, and moved to take Nemo’s hand.  
‘Chéri, you do not give yourself enough credit. You may not be a doctor, but you’re an engineer with a sure instinct for the uses of tools. And you are so familiar with how work is done in a laboratory, you have set this up to be exceptionally efficient. I would not have been able to design it half so well.’  
Pierre then drew Nemo into an embrace. ‘I am so grateful for this. Now, if anyone needs care, I can give them my very best. This eases many, many worries I’ve had since my return. Thank you, Nemo, I don’t know what else I can say…’  
They held one another for a quiet time, then Pierre gently lifted Nemo’s chin to kiss him. ‘Nemo, my love, when did you finish all this?’  
Nemo looked at Pierre, then away. ‘Must I answer that question?’  
Pierre laughed. ‘Well, since you have put it in that way, yes, you must!’  
Nemo sighed, knowing Pierre would not really care for the answer. ‘About 0200 this morning.’  
Pierre’s eyes widened, then he pulled Nemo into a tight embrace. ‘You must be exhausted! You are going to rest if I have to sit on you to keep you down!’  
That actually won Pierre a laugh, that low, warm, quiet laugh that he loved so much.  
‘You will get your wish, no sitting on me required. Ranjit and all the friends who are officers informed me that I will not work on your return. We are headed for our home port for fuel, I charted the full voyage this morning, and I am under strict orders to spend the next three days enjoying married life. They will run the ship and carry out the duties. Rightly, they all pointed out that, after our marriage, our one indulgence was that we had a late breakfast, and then we were back to work as usual. So, the days are ours. Paritosh has offered to have our meals delivered here in our quarters or the dining room, or we can eat in the commons, we just need to let him know. We’ll have lunch soon in the commons, as all our friends want to welcome you home. I took the liberty of ordering dinner here at our worktable, and breakfast tomorrow, also. You can decide the rest.’

Pierre was to note in his journal, a few days later, what a wonderful day was his home-coming. Lunch in the commons had been more than a bit of a party, their friends all welcoming Pierre home, Paritosh and his galley crew outdoing themselves serving Nemo and Pierre’s favourite dishes, and then when Robert brought out bottles of champagne he had essentially smuggled in, having claimed the crate was full of philosophical books for his library…  
The afternoon when he unpacked, answering Nemo’s many questions about his time in Paris. The look on Nemo’s face when Pierre laid the two wedding gifts out on the bed, one something soft wrapped in paper, the other, heavier in a box, and Nemo got to open both. The beautiful blanket from Pierre’s sister and her husband, crocheted in sea-colours, which Nemo promptly spread over the bed, its beauty warming the already-handsome room. The heavy crystal decanter from Pierre’s brother and his wife, with their own names and their marriage date on it, and the two matching glasses, one etched with an ’N’, the other with a ‘P’. Their private, quiet time together, a couple of timeless hours with the sweetest of reunions. Having their dinner at their worktable, sitting very close together…

After dinner, they each enjoyed a cigar, having moved to the sofa, Nemo comfortably against Pierre in the warm circle of his arm.  
Pierre looked around the beautiful, comfortable room, then pressed a kiss to Nemo’s temple. ‘You have made such a beautiful home for us, Nemo. A true home. You have seen to every detail, the practicality of our duties, our work together, and also our personal life - things meant to ease our bodies, our minds, and even our spirits. This is the greatest of gifts. I am so very grateful, and here I will love you for many days and many years to come.’  
Nemo blinked several times, and Pierre had the impression his love was blinking back tears. Nemo didn’t have any words, but he reached a hand to cover the hand that held him, gripping it tightly. Pierre wrapped his other arm around Nemo, and just held him very close, cheek resting against his soft, black hair. They rested quietly, enjoying their closeness and the pleasure of an after-dinner smoke.  
When the cigars were finished, and with a hug to Pierre and a light kiss, Nemo got up and stacked their dinner dishes neatly on the tray. ‘My Pierre, would you like to go stargaze on the platform? Robert said it is a beautiful night, warm and with a quarter-Moon for beauty.’  
Pierre smiled. ‘I’d love that,’ he said quietly.  
Nemo nodded. ‘I’ll just take this down to the galley, then.’  
‘And I will haul my trunk and the empty crates to stores, we don’t need to be tripping over them. Shall we meet on the platform?’  
‘I will see you there,’ Nemo said, touching Pierre’s face lightly.  
Nemo took the tray to the galley, setting it by the big sink, then went up to the platform. He took his favourite perch on the beacon housing. He may have only had four hours of sleep, but he and Pierre had taken a nap after sharing a loving, quiet time, and he was relaxed in every bone of his body, his heart, and his mind. His Pierre was home. He stretched his back, then tipped his head up to look at the stars and the bright band of the Milky Way, as it was known to Pierre, the Ganga of the Sky as known to his own people.  
The stars… he and Ranjit used to look at them when they were children in India. They became a form of great comfort for the both of them when they were gone for so many years to foreign lands for education. When Nemo married, he and his wife spent many hours observing, for the science of astronomy was her passion. When he was imprisoned, he would find a place to lie on the dirt floor, his head placed where he could see them through the small barred window when he was unable to sleep, which was often. During the building of the Nautilus, he would lie awake and look at them, wondering if he could truly achieve this monumental effort, this mad dream. On board his ship, he saw them during quiet times on the platform with his plans and hopes. They were there during the anguish of his decisions made so wrongly, and the horrific loss of Pierre. And here they were, still. Unchanged, even as he had changed. A mature man who was still learning, still growing. And now, this gift of the joy of sharing this new, lifetime road with Pierre. The stars, they were the same, but he was not. And his gratitude knew no boundary.  
He breathed in the clean, gentle air, and breathed out thankfulness.  
A light step on the platform, then a warm hand to his cheek, a soft, loving voice in his ear. Pierre sat beside him on the housing, drawing him close in a two-armed embrace.  
‘Chéri, the look on your face, so beautiful, what are you thinking?’  
Nemo put both of his hands over Pierre’s, which were crossed over his chest, giving them a gentle squeeze.  
‘My Pierre, I was just thinking about how beautiful are the stars. And how many the years we will enjoy them together.’


End file.
